


Clementine

by ShirleyAnn66



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/pseuds/ShirleyAnn66
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirk's past is darker than his friends realize. Kirk had to face some punishment for driving his dad's car off a cliff so he is sent to visit his aunt on Tarsus IV. The food shortage and massacre by Kodos still occur. Now, as Captain of the Enterprise, something brings up those old memories. Spock and McCoy have to find their own connection in order to help. (full prompt in fic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Master Post/Disclaimers/Etc.

**Title:** Clementine  
 **Author:** [](http://shirleyann66.livejournal.com/profile)[**shirleyann66**](http://shirleyann66.livejournal.com/)  
 **Artist:** [](http://susanmarier.livejournal.com/profile)[**susanmarier**](http://susanmarier.livejournal.com/)  
 **Prompter:** [](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/profile)[**caitriona_3**](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/)  
 **Prompt:** Kirk's past is darker than his friends realize. Long before the scene in the bar, Kirk had to face some punishment for driving his dad's car off a cliff. His mother sends him to visit his aunt on Tarsus IV. The food shortage and massacre by Kodos still occur. Kirk survived and returned to Earth - the young boy gone for good. Now, as Captain of the Enterprise, something (author's choice) brings up those old memories, and his nightmares return/come to life/???. Spock and McCoy have to find their own connection in order to help Kirk deal with the old trauma and new danger.  (Obviously inspired by the "Conscious of the King", but hoping to see some great new story!) - _Kirk, Spock, McCoy (not a 'ship please)_

 **Fandom:** Star Trek Reboot  
 **Relationship(s)/Characters:** Gen - Kirk, Spock, McCoy; background Spock/Uhura; McCoy/Chapel; Kirk/OC's if you squint.  
 **Word Count:** ~17,290  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Warnings:** Some strong language; PTSD-like situations; non-graphic descriptions of the death of children.  
 **Disclaimers:** In case you're wondering:  I don't own Star Trek in any of its incarnations.  This fic is for entertainment and non-profit use only.

 **A/N:** This fic is somewhat experimental.  Except for any stray typos, this fic is deliberately written this way.  I hope it works.

 **Link to art master post:** [](http://susanmarier.livejournal.com/profile)[**susanmarier**](http://susanmarier.livejournal.com/) has created [some truly stunning artwork](http://archiveofourown.org/works/706973).  Please leave her lots of love!  :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for sfxpromptbang on LiveJournal. :)


	2. Clementine - Part 1/2

McCoy scowled as the door opened, and Spock strode briskly into the small room. The door swished closed and locked with an audible click.

“Any change, Doctor?”

“Does it look like there's any change?”

They turned their attention to the man on the bed. His usually bright eyes were dimmed and stared fixedly at something no one else could see, his normally mobile face slack and expressionless.

“How's the rest of the landing party doing?” McCoy asked.

“They are Starfleet.”

On occasion, McCoy’s eyebrow was as expressive as Spock’s.

“They are concerned about the Captain, and the situation,” Spock conceded, “but they have every faith that you will cure him.”

McCoy snorted. “I wish I shared it. There’s nothing physically wrong with him. I’ve tested for every disease and parasite known to man - and Vulcan, Klingon, Romulan and beyond – and nothing. This is a disease of the _mind_ , Spock.”

They considered the unresponsive figure on the bed.

“If you do not find a way to break through this catatonia, Doctor, there is no predictable path for this illness to take.”

McCoy nodded grimly.

“The longer this continues,” Spock continued, “the more risk we run that the Governor will simply decide to incarcerate the Captain - and the rest of the landing party.”

“We’re Starfleet,” McCoy growled. “The Governor knows better than to make a knee-jerk decision without due process.”

“We are on the edge of the frontier, Doctor. Starfleet is very far away - as the people of Cerberus knew when they called for help.”

“Tell me something I don't know!” McCoy snapped. He turned his scowl back towards an unresponsive Kirk. “This isn’t physical,” he said again, more gently now, “and we don’t have the time to ease him out of this state. We’ll need to come up with something drastic if we’re going to help him before the Governor decides to take matters into his own hands.”

They both considered Kirk in thoughtful silence.

Spock finally said, slowly, “Captain Kirk is rash and impetuous; passionate and devious - and above all else - illogical.”

McCoy smirked, but remained silent.

“He is also loyal - and self-destructive,” Spock continued, “but he is not one to hide his emotions away. He is not one to hide at all.”

“No,” McCoy agreed.

“His condition is...fragile?”

“Extremely.”

Spock stood silent and still for another long moment, then turned to McCoy with an air of decision and determination.

“There is a way to determine the cause of the catatonia,” he said, “but it will be difficult and potentially dangerous for all of us.”

“A three-way mind-meld,” McCoy asked, but there was no question in his voice.

Spock raised an eyebrow, and McCoy shrugged.

“It’s a disease of the mind,” McCoy reminded him, “and we’re not on the Enterprise or anywhere near the advanced medical resources of Starfleet. Our options are limited. I’d hoped you’d see it yourself and volunteer because I know...this won’t be easy for you.”

“But it must be done,” Spock said, and only the flicker of his eyes showed his discomfort. “You are not comfortable either.”

“I’m not,” McCoy agreed, easily for him, “but Jim is my patient; I have to do whatever it takes to cure him.”

“Then are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

It took some shuffling, but they finally settled with McCoy sitting on a chair beside the bed, and Spock on another within easy reach of both Kirk and McCoy. Spock then lightly pressed the fingers of his left hand to McCoy’s face.

McCoy jerked as their minds merged, yet even as he mentally staggered under the sudden onslaught of _the other_ , his doctor’s instincts took over and he found himself clinically observing both his reactions and Spock’s along with the jumble of images, impressions, and emotions.

_Well done, Doctor._

_You sound surprised._

_I have not spoken aloud._

_Spock,_ McCoy sighed with exasperated fondness.

McCoy sensed an answering amusement mingled with reluctant and surprised respect.

_Your emotional control in this situation is admirable._

_I’m a doctor, Spock. I must make decisions based on fact, not emotion - although there’s always room for gut instinct. Are you ready?_

_Affirmative. I believe I have constructed a strong enough shield so the Captain will not be exposed to our emotions as well as his own. Your training and discipline is a considerable asset in this endeavour._

_A compliment, Spock? Be careful, or I’ll think you like me._

_Are you ready, Doctor?_

_As ready as I’ll ever be._

Spock reached out and lightly settled the fingers of his right hand on Kirk's face, and Spock and McCoy were immediately plunged into a tumbling kaleidoscope of images, and awash in pain so raw, deep and visceral that both McCoy and Spock were hard-pressed to withstand its force, their own memories and emotions leeching through the barrier Spock had built, feeding on each other. It was a miasma of feelings: confusion, anger, fear. _Pain._ So much pain they all carried, and even Kirk in his catatonic state seemed to stagger beneath the onslaught.

Spock and McCoy reeled, then rallied.

 _Where’s the source?_ McCoy demanded, unable to make sense of the images that flashed around them. _What’s causing all of this?_

 _That is what we must find out_ , Spock replied as he took control and began to slow the thoughts, to calm the rushing emotions, to guide Kirk’s thoughts and memories into some kind of order, and to allow their shared memories to merge...

  
* * * * *

(It begins - naturally enough - with a woman.)

They're on well-deserved shore leave on Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet, and the three of them are walking - limping, actually, or at least Kirk and Bones are limping - after a four-hour horseback ride Uhura had arranged for them in revenge for convincing Spock to experience something known as a Night Out with the Boys - or in this case, a day - instead of the romantic holiday she'd intended. She managed to discover that McCoy distrusts horses (no surprise; he distrusts everything) and Kirk, for whatever reason, actively hates horses; her smile had been positively evil as she made the arrangements.

Spock, the pointy-eared-bastard, is no worse for wear, while Kirk is moaning that his thighs haven’t been this sore since that wild weekend with those three Andorians and he wished he could remember what the hell they’d done to him and he wished like hell he could forget _this_ latest escapade.

Bones isn’t listening; instead he’s grumbling about horses and how he’s now decided he hates them even more than things that fly although he concedes they’re slightly - but only slightly - less likely to kill him when he least expects it.

Spock raises an eyebrow and occasionally points out a logical fallacy in their statements which only makes Kirk roll his eyes and Bones actually growl and right in the middle of an eye roll, Kirk’s knocked back on his heels by a girl barrelling out of the general store straight into his arms.

He automatically steadies her and meets her startled eyes -

\- and the world stops.

In the eternity of the moment, he sees she’s young, no more than fourteen, still teetering on the edge of childhood, her body just beginning to curve. Red hair. Freckles. And eyes that are a truly extraordinary shade of violet.

Then, muffled and distant and somehow distorted, Kirk hears the storekeeper shouting _Adelaide, Adelaide_ and his hands drop from the girl's shoulders as the world jerks into movement. She gives him another wide-eyed glance then turns and runs, feet churning the dust, something clutched tight in her grubby hand, her long braid whipping the air behind her. Kirk feels thick heavy cotton pressing on his chest, his face, making it difficult to breathe, and the storekeeper barrels outside just as the girl _(adelaide no adelaide’s not right no)_ just as the girl disappears around the corner.

 _Damn girl,_ the storekeeper growls, and Kirk barely hears, staring unblinkingly after her.

Bones laughs, claps him on the shoulder, says _she’s a little young, Jim, especially for you, but she’ll be a real beauty when she grows up._

The storekeeper spits into the street, and says _she keep stealin’ like that, she ain’t_ gonna _grow up._ He scowls ferociously then stomps back into the store.

They continue towards the saloon that seems to be tempting even Spock although he's immune to alcohol, only now Kirk’s puzzled, distracted _(adelaide adelaide no not adelaide)_ except he can’t think why.

~~~~~

Kirk finds himself stumbling against the memory of the girl long after the pleasure planet is a distant memory, during long stretches of boredom broken by what feels like even longer stretches of chaos and danger marked by his trademark impulsiveness and disregard for Starfleet regulations.

The hair. The freckles. Those _eyes._

The taste of familiarity lingers on his tongue, teases his brain, glimmers on the edge of memory but never gets close enough to grasp.

He tells himself to forget it; he puzzles over why he can’t, and each time the memory of her face rises up, it seems to linger a little longer, beckoning him. Towards what? Reminding him. Of what?

He simply doesn’t know.

* * * * *

(It worsens - naturally enough - because of a woman.)

Kirk’s enjoying himself with his officers and crew. They’re celebrating...hell, he can’t remember what they’re celebrating, but he’s sure it’s something suitably momentous to deserve the free-flow of Tennessee whiskey (for Bones), the Jack Daniels (for Uhura) and the anything-alcoholic-is-good-enough (for Kirk). By unspoken agreement, there’s no Romulan ale for Spock’s sake, even though if anyone had actually said anything he would have argued it was illogical to blame an entire species for the actions of one rogue captain, let alone an inanimate object such as ale.

No-one on the Enterprise drinks it anyway, and Spock never tries to convince them otherwise.

After almost two years pushing the boundaries of known space, leaping before he thinks, breaking regulations, ignoring orders, turning McCoy grey and Spock emotional, Kirk realizes with the clarity that comes only to the very drunk that he’s never felt as happy and comfortable as he is right now, right here, with his crew and his friends (friends! Had he ever really had friends before? There’d been Johnny, he supposed, that summer he stole his father’s corvette - not his stepfather’s, never Frank’s! - that summer, that same summer Sam left (no George Jr. for him, oh no!), left him alone with Frank while their mother was off-planet with Starfleet, left him all alone with Frank, that bastard, and even Kirk doesn’t know which one he means. But Johnny had left, too - Kirk no longer remembered when he’d left or where he’d gone, just that Johnny had been there one day and gone the next, leaving without even saying good-bye. After Johnny, after that summer, Kirk had just given up. Given up on his stepfather, on his brother, on his mother, on Johnny and friendship. Given up on himself, too, if he was honest - until that bar fight and Pike and Starfleet.)

Kirk smirks blearily at all of them, everything soft and blurred and distant: Scotty and Sulu and Chekov taking turns singing soulful ballads, sometimes in the languages of their homelands; McCoy scowling as Spock precisely deconstructs some point he’s made; Uhura, Rand and Chapel conspiring in the corner until Chapel finally stands and walks over to the singing trio and says _enough of the sad songs. Computer, play Clementine - it’s the latest song craze to hit the Federation and it’s fun and bouncy, and we can dance to it, if we want,_ and she slides a glance at McCoy, who’s too busy ranting at Spock _(damn it man I’m a doctor not a botanist!)_ to notice.

Kirk grins, imagining the look on McCoy’s face when he finds himself on the dance floor because he won’t see it coming and gets ready to enjoy watching Chapel at work - only the computer gets it wrong and instead of the energetic synthesized dance music they were expecting, there is instead the tinny sounds of a saloon-hall piano pounding out the notes of another much, much older song about a Clementine and for Kirk -

\- the world stops.

The notes hang in his ears, the girl’s face hangs in front of his eyes, and he stares and thinks _clementine yes clementine not adelaide._

Only he’s never known a Clementine -

\- and the world grinds back into motion with catcalls and laughter and singing because really, who doesn't know the words especially after four or five hundred years? Well, except Spock of course, and as they finish singing he says with mild curiosity, _I do not understand your enjoyment of this song; the girl drowns, does she not?_

McCoy rolls his eyes and says, _for one night stop being a cold-blooded Vulcan and simply enjoy the evening! It’s a song, it doesn’t have to be logical!_

Spock raises an eyebrow and they’re off, bickering happily (although Spock would never admit to anything so human as bickering for the pleasure of bickering; he might, however, admit to being happy).

Kirk hears everything from a distance, the tinny notes of the piano still in his ears, the girl’s face hanging in front of his eyes.

Finally Bones glances over and says _it looks like the man who called this party is down for the count. I never thought I’d see the day I would outlast James T. Kirk!_

 _Well, you haven’t had as much to drink, Doctor,_ Chapel says, then blushes under Uhura’s and Rand’s interested looks, but McCoy doesn’t notice, just shakes his head, drains his glass and stands, saying _well, time to get Kirk back to his quarters - alone for a change._

Only he isn’t alone. The girl’s face still hovers in front of his eyes, and the sound of the piano still rings in his ears as he falls into bed, the room spinning enough for him to wonder for a moment if they're under attack. Her face and the piano are even more clear when he closes his eyes, and he sees now her face is rounder than the child’s he’d run into, the hair more carroty, the freckles bigger and darker and almost filling her entire face, but the eyes - the eyes are the same - large and violet and fringed by thick dark lashes that are in startling contrast to the carroty hair - and she’s tall even though she’s still a girl, a child, thirteen or fourteen or fifteen, slender and sturdy, her boyish shape only just beginning to soften into a woman’s curves -

Kirk _knows_ all this, and yet...

He doesn’t know who she is.

~~~~~

The girl’s face and the sounds of the piano are never far away. They fade into the background during times of crisis or when duty demands his full attention, or when he’s smoothly flirting with one woman or another. But when he’s alone, or he’s relaxing, or his attention wanders, her face is there.

Clementine.

The sound of the piano ghosts in his ears.

~~~~~

Kirk wracks his brain, the girl, Clementine, the girl’s face never long from in front of him or hovering in the corners of his eyes. His mind is more and more often worrying at the mystery of her, gnawing at the familiarity, drawn to it, to her, like a sore tooth he can’t stop testing.

Finally, weeks after he remembered her name, after they broker peace between two warring colonies on Jouret IV, he thinks to ask the computer to run a search for anyone named Clementine in connection with a James Tiberius Kirk.

He finds nothing familiar.

~~~~~

He broods, his normally irreverent persona tucked away.

He broods; his sleep is disturbed and his temper grows short.

He broods, and he throws himself a little too enthusiastically into pushing the frontiers of space, into exploring new planets and civilizations, into the conflicts they find or are ordered to resolve.

He broods, and he almost viciously enjoys ignoring orders from Starfleet and Spock’s resulting disapproval and McCoy’s anger.

He broods, and he looks at the girl and he listens to the piano and he tries to understand what's happening to him and fails.

He broods, and says nothing.

* * * * *

(It turns into a crisis - naturally enough - because of a woman.)

It's Stardate 2260.02 when Kirk and Spock walk into sickbay to find an unnaturally cheerful McCoy wreathed in smiles, a small holograph of his daughter in pride of place on his desk. Chapel, Kirk notices with unholy amusement, looks stunned, and keeps sliding wide-eyed, disbelieving glances towards the Chief Medical Officer. She freezes like a rabbit when McCoy catches her, and the doctor’s grin gets wider and deliberately wicked and Spock raises an eyebrow while Kirk swears he almost hears the air sizzle or perhaps it’s only Chapel’s face, which is now bright red.

 _What's going on, Bones?_ Kirk asks. _You look disgustingly cheerful. It’s not like you._

_My daughter’s going to be on Cerberus for a year._

Spock once again raises an eyebrow and Kirk frowns and says, _and this makes you happy? Why?_

 _Well, not the fact she’s going to be in some tin can going through space,_ McCoy concedes, _but her mother isn’t going with her and I have some leave coming to me. That means I won’t have to go all the way back to Earth and deal with Joanna’s mother in order to spend time with her._

Kirk claps a hand to McCoy’s shoulder.

 _Just let me know when, Bones - and how old’s your daughter again?_ He winks at Chapel at McCoy's immediate scowl.

 _Ten - and you are_ never _going near her once she turns eighteen!_

Kirk only laughs; it’s his first true laugh in months. He laughs more because McCoy’s immediately back to his usual grumpy self, and Chapel looks relieved, although she’s still blushing and when McCoy looks at her and growls _get a move on, we have patients to care for_ Kirk laughs even harder, and if there’s a tinge of hysteria to it, no one says anything, although McCoy and Spock exchange puzzled glances when Kirk isn’t looking.

~~~~~

McCoy's daughter arrives safely at Cerberus while they're embroiled in exploring a planet that appears habitable but ends up being extremely dangerous thanks to its unusual native life forms, and by the time they (barely) escape, Kirk decides it’s time once more for some general shore leave. No one on the crew objects and most of his friends hope a little R&R is just what the Captain needs to get back to his old self.

They go to a space station this time, and both Kirk and McCoy decide not to tempt fate aka the Wrath of Uhura and lets her make arrangements to sneak away with Spock for a romantic holiday _(or as romantic as a Vulcan can get, and really, Bones, the mind boggles)._

Kirk ultimately decides to avoid McCoy, too, and spends his time in the bars and bedrooms of the station, desperately trying to ignore the girl’s face and that damn tinny saloon-hall piano that still follows him everywhere and is sometimes so loud he can’t hear what’s being said on the bridge and that scares him more than the girl’s face and his growing inability to sleep through the night.

McCoy is left to his own devices and ends up having drinks with Rand and Chapel, and finds himself looking at the blonde nurse in a different way when she finagles him onto a dance floor almost before he realizes what’s happening, and Rand’s amusement causes him to scowl and fidget and drag her up on the dance floor too, but mostly it causes him to shoot puzzled, frowning glances at Chapel when she isn’t looking and makes him feel like he’s a fumbling boy again.

He’s not sure he likes it, but he’s not sure he hates it, and if nothing else he’s rather intrigued and even after they’re back from shore leave and they set off to explore the next sector of space, McCoy finds himself rather looking forward to seeing what happens next even though he’s even more worried about Kirk, who comes back on duty looking worse than before he’d gone on shore leave, and not in the I’ve-been-binging-for-days-Bones-don’t-worry-I’ll-sober-up-soon sort of way McCoy is used to.

He thinks, _something’s seriously wrong with Kirk_ and not even a week of drinking and sex seems to have made things any better. Except things aren’t necessarily bad either. Even so, McCoy makes a point of observing Kirk more closely over the next two missions and he sees he's jumpy, coldly sarcastic at the slightest hint of a mistake, his face a bland mask as impenetrable as Spock’s when someone dares to challenge him. No one knows what’s happening but everyone knows something is, and the crew is beginning to walk on eggshells around him. Even Spock almost cracks a frown and that, more than anything, makes McCoy go to him at the end of their second mission after shore leave and on the way to their third.

 _Something’s wrong,_ he says, _with Jim._

_I know._

_Has he talked to you?_

_No._

_Me either._

They say nothing more, except their eloquently raised eyebrows speak volumes and McCoy would be amused if he wasn’t so damn worried that Kirk is cracking under the pressure and putting the whole damn ship at risk, not to mention his career and his already legendary reputation.

But Kirk isn’t talking, not even when McCoy pushes or Spock prods and the only time any expression other than distracted bad temper crosses Kirk’s face is when he snaps at Rand and then looks vaguely guilty as if he knows he did something wrong but he’s not quite sure what it is.

But the ship is still functioning smoothly - it’s just not as much fun as it used to be, and even Spock admits there’s something to be said about being led by a Captain with a personality as colourful and powerful as Kirk’s.

But the longer it continues, and the longer their periods of quiet between intense action and chaos, the more the cracks begin to show on the bridge.

Kirk slumps in the captain’s chair, and not in his devil-may-care, fuck-the-universe fashion. Instead his eyes are curiously blank and fever-bright with dark circles beneath them. Even when he’s paying attention, he’s moody, snapping at everyone, and for the slightest of reasons.

Everyone is nervous. Chekov’s accent is getting thicker, Sulu’s fumbling with the controls, and Uhura is even colder when speaking to Kirk, verging on insubordination on occasion. Only Spock is imperturbable, merely raising an eyebrow and rebuking the captain in his bland voice, marshalling his most logical arguments. He is Vulcan, and unmoved on the surface, but he, too, is becoming increasingly worried. He finds himself consulting with Dr. McCoy on an almost daily basis as the days progress and Kirk shows no signs of snapping out of whatever this is.

 _He is still focused in times of crisis,_ Spock says, _still performs his duties to the high standards he has established over the last two years. But he is no longer the same Captain Kirk._

McCoy nods glumly, and stares at the holographic image of his daughter Joanna that has pride of place on his desk in sickbay. She’s been on Cerberus for five standard months now, and McCoy’s too worried about Kirk to ask for leave in order to visit her.

_Out of everyone on board the Enterprise, Doctor, you have known him the longest. Have you ever seen him like this before?_

_I don’t know what’s going on with him,_ McCoy says slowly. _Even at his most self-destructive at the Academy, he wasn’t like this. Volatile, yes. Unpredictable, most definitely. Devious, and manipulative and charming - of course; that’s as natural to him as breathing. Violent, when the occasion demanded, or when his demons took control and for whatever reason, he’d be spoiling for a fight. But this - this is something new. I’ve never seen him like this before._

They don’t say they're both watching him. They don’t say they’re both ready to relieve him of duty the moment it appears he’s unable to continue as Captain or he’s a danger to the ship. They don’t say they will do everything in their power to ensure no one in Starfleet Command discovers just how distracted he’s become, or how worried they are about him. They don’t say they will do whatever it takes to protect him.

There are, Spock has learned over the last two years with Kirk and McCoy and the others, some things that go without saying.

They watch, and they intervene when possible, and they each in their own ways ask Kirk what’s going on and offer their help. Kirk tells them it’s nothing, and refuses to say anything more.

They're heading towards a crisis, Spock knows; he just doesn’t know _why._

~~~~~

As it happens, a different crisis finds them first.

McCoy is thankfully not on the bridge when the distress call comes in.

_Cerberus. Crops failed. Stores contaminated. Famine imminent. Need assistance._

It’s a blanket call for help, and Cerberus has no way of knowing if there are any Starfleet vessels nearby.

 _If we don’t do something, it’ll be like Tarsus IV all over again,_ Sulu mutters worriedly in the sudden silence of the bridge.

Kirk stares into the distance, his eyes even more blank than the bridge crew had become used to seeing over the last few months.

Crops failed. Stores contaminated. Famine imminent.

 _Captain?_ Spock says and raises an eyebrow as Kirk’s blank expression remains unchanged.

Failed. Contaminated. Famine.

 _We have to do something,_ Sulu urges, turning to look at Kirk. Everyone waits, expectantly and then with growing puzzlement as Kirk continues to sit unmoving in his captain’s chair.

Failed. Famine.

Kirk’s dimly aware of voices, senses words hanging in the air, but the girl’s face fills his vision, and the piano is clattering louder than the voices around him.

Famine.

 _Captain?_ Spock says again, more sharply.

 _We don’t want a repeat of Tarsus IV,_ Sulu says almost desperately. _I lost family to Kodos’ insanity. We have to do something!_

The girl's face dissolves, the piano abruptly stops playing and Kirk blinks at his bridge crew, who are staring at him with varying degrees of bewilderment and hope.

A faint frown creases his face.

 _Tarsus IV?_ he asks.

 _Mr. Sulu is correct,_ Spock says. _Cerberus is in a similar state of crisis. A repetition of the actions of Governor Kodos fourteen standard years ago must be prevented at all costs._

There’s still no comprehension in Kirk’s eyes but he nods in distant agreement.

 _Where’s the nearest place to pick up supplies? And how fast can we get from here to there to Cerberus?_ Kirk asks, and the entire bridge relaxes; even Spock’s eyebrows look relieved. The crew explode into action, Uhura sending messages to the nearest planets and to Cerberus that the Enterprise would bring aid as soon as possible while Scotty is already promising Sulu as much power as he can coax out of the old girl’s engines.

 _Captain,_ Spock says, and the entire bridge pauses.

 _Yes, Mr. Spock?_ Kirk says, his old smirk firmly in place although it doesn’t reach his eyes.

_Someone needs to tell Dr. McCoy._

The smirk disappears.

Kirk nods once.

 _You have the comm,_ he says and strides purposefully from the bridge.

~~~~~

McCoy stares, his face drawn, his eyes dark with worry and fear. He’s unnaturally still, coiled power in his stance, his hands clenched, and Kirk catches himself almost taking a step away from the emotion and danger blazing in McCoy’s eyes. The thought flits through his mind that he’s never seen Bones truly angry; he doesn’t think he ever wants to.

Then the moment is broken as McCoy explodes into scowls and motion, and he rages as he paces sickbay until even Kirk gets dizzy watching him. Chapel frowns and watches carefully from a distance, ready to talk sense into McCoy if he starts to go too far.

 _We’re going to get there as soon as we can, Bones,_ Kirk soothes.

 _I need to get in touch with her,_ McCoy growls, _make sure she’s safe - and will remain safe until we do get there._

 _The governor of Cerberus knows what happened to Kodos,_ Chapel says. _He knows he’d better wait for help and not do anything drastic._

Kirk frowns. _Who?_

McCoy rolls his eyes. _You never did pay attention in Galactic History class, did you?_

Kirk has the grace to look chagrined, but he’s still frowning, and the girl’s face flashes in front of his eyes.

McCoy turns his scowl on Chapel. _I’m not prepared to take that risk,_ he snaps, _just in case Cerberus’ governor paid as much attention to galactic history as_ this _guy._ He gestures at Kirk, whose eyes are once more curiously distant and blank. _I’d feel the same way even if my daughter’s life wasn’t at risk!_

Kirk focuses with an effort. _Your daughter’s life isn't at risk,_ he says and gives a fair imitation of his usual self-confident grin. _We’ll fill up with supplies and get to Cerberus in no time. I’m not sure what whatshisname did on - where was it again?_

McCoy heaves a long-suffering sigh. _Kodos. On Tarsus IV. And he murdered over four thousand people._

Kirk blinks. _Oh. Well. I’ll tell Scotty to step on it then._

_Do that._

Kirk leaves McCoy trying to get a message off to Cerberus and heads back to the bridge. He strides off the turbolift, throws himself into the captain's chair, calls Engineering and says, _Mr. Scott - step on it, if you please. It will make Dr. McCoy feel better._

There are grins all around, and the girl’s face moves to the edge of his vision and the sound of the piano fades away, only now he feels like there’s something he’s forgotten about his conversation with Bones.

Chekov leans over to Sulu. _Did you really lose family on Tarsus IV?_

_Yes, but we think some of them died of starvation before Kodos decided to massacre half the colony._

Kirk frowns. _Who?_ he asks.

~~~~~

Kirk dreams.

He dreams of music and the girl and he _feels -_

 _oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my da-a-a-arlin’ Clementine_ and the girl’s beside him and she scowls as she punches his shoulder - hard - _not funny Jimmy-boy_ \- and he laughs. She growls and lunges for him and he runs - they run - and he feels the hard dirt beneath his bare feet; his hair is long and unkempt and gets in his eyes as he dances around her just out of reach - he’s not stupid after all - _hey! you’re supposed to be feeding the chickens!_ \- he glances at Aunt Mari momentarily distracted and that’s when the girl tackles him and they roll and tumble in a heap; he’s knocked breathless - the girl grins as she easily pins him and he cranes his neck and glares at Aunt Mari, who’s watching with a grin of her own on her usually stern face - _you did that on purpose_ \- his voice rings with the depth of the betrayal and Aunt Mari laughs - _us girls have to stick together don’t hurt him too much Clem we still need his help with the harvest._

His heart swells with happiness as he pouts winningly at Clem and Aunt Mari and he hears the baby crying and he’s scared so scared - no, terrified - his breath comes in short panting gasps and he can’t get his voice to work and he’s on his feet but he can’t move - his heart pounds - he sees Clem and Aunt Mari and the girl turns and their eyes meet and _pain pain pain_ \- it explodes - it bursts - it envelopes everything in an agony of grief and despair and shock and horror and he's blinded by it on his knees with it -

He wakes with a gasping wordless cry, and it takes hours (it seems) for the grief to subside, tears burning unshed in his resolutely closed eyes even though the dream is already fading (Aunt Mari? His mother’s sister but something happened and he hasn’t heard her name in years besides he only met her a couple of times when she came back to Earth from...wherever she went). In the morning even that vague memory is gone and all that’s left is a faint echo of the pain.

His tired eyes show a sleepless night, which are followed by more sleepless nights and unlike other missions, he doesn’t become the Captain Kirk of old. Instead the stains beneath his eyes grow ever darker - as does his mood - and finally, finally speculation begins to run rampant through the Enterprise: he’s sick with some exotic alien disease picked up from the J'naii ambassador when they’d transported her (or him or it - no one, not even Spock, seemed to know for sure except perhaps Kirk) a few standard weeks ago. Or he’s binging in his off-hours; or he’s in the midst of his latest shipboard affair and it’s so passionate, she’s keeping him awake all night (Rand scowls at him a little more fiercely when that one reaches her ears, treats him a little more coldly, but he doesn’t notice - he doesn’t notice anything) but if it’s a new romance, no one knows who it is - nobody’s seen her and nobody’s talking and in a ship the size of the Enterprise (and with a Captain as impulsive and adventurous as Kirk), that’s virtually impossible and so the rumour mill churns on...

...while he dreams...

He dreams of music and freckles and violet eyes and grief that breaks him until he wakes, gasping, lungs burning, body shaking.

He catches his breath, rolls out of bed, asks the computer to search - again! _again!_ \- for any Clementine in connection to James Tiberius Kirk, and never never never sees anything familiar and all he can do for the rest of the night - every night - is stare at the screen and listen to the deafening sound of the piano.

As they head towards Penthara IV and fill the Enterprise to the brim with supplies and then begin their journey to Cerberus, he becomes more and more drawn, his face gaunt, his eyes exhaustion-bright, until finally McCoy marches onto the bridge just over twenty-four standard hours from Cerberus, and manhandles Kirk off to sickbay, grumbling about regulations and doctor-patient privilege and _just plain old friendship, damn it, and you’d better come too, Spock, if you know what's good for you!_

Spock raises an eyebrow, hands command to Sulu and follows McCoy and Kirk into the turbolift without a word.

McCoy puts Kirk through a full exam once they get to sickbay muttering the entire time about idiots who don’t know enough to ask for help when they need it especially when there are two perfectly good officers standing _right there who were willing to go to hell and back to protect their captain and they weren’t the only ones!_

 _Didn’t think you cared, Bones,_ Kirk says, his words slurring from exhaustion; he tries to grin but it’s a dim copy of his usual megawatt expression.

_Oh, so this is my fault?_

Kirk chuckles wearily. _You give yourself too much credit._

 _Then what the_ hell _is going on?_

Kirk glances at Spock, then his shoulders slump and he shakes his head. _I - I can’t explain it,_ he mutters. _I don’t understand it myself._

_When was the last time you got a full night’s sleep?_

Kirk just shakes his head.

_I’m going to give you a mild sedative, one that will make you sleep at least twenty-four hours._

Kirk’s eyes go wide. _Will I dream?_

McCoy and Spock exchange puzzled glances.

 _Not as far as I know,_ McCoy says slowly, _but I’ll give you a different one, one that’s guaranteed to give you dreamless sleep._

Kirk sits still and silent for so long McCoy wonders if he’s fallen asleep even without the sedative. He finally, slowly nods. _I’d appreciate that._

When Kirk is sleeping and McCoy has confirmed his vital signs are stable, he leaves Chapel in charge and takes Spock aside.

_He’s having nightmares._

_Yes, Doctor. I heard._

McCoy rolls his eyes but refuses to rise to the bait. _About what?_ he demands.

_That, Doctor, is not something I can even begin to answer._

_But it’s something we’ll need to work together to discover. He’s your friend, too, Spock._

Spock hesitates then inclines his head. _Affirmative. I will assist you in whatever way is required._

When Kirk awakens, he’s more clear-headed than he’s been in weeks, possibly months. The girl’s face is still there as is the sound of the piano, but now they’re background noise and texture rather than the focus of his attention. He smiles and teases the nurses and even Chapel can’t help but laugh at his flirting but tells him _don’t bat those baby blues at me, Captain, I’m still going to obey your doctor's orders._

Kirk pouts and turns limpid eyes on Rand who frantically shakes her head. _You may be Captain,_ she says, _but Dr. McCoy scares the crap out of me._

 _Which is as it should be,_ McCoy growls as he strides into the room followed closely by Spock.

He checks the reports, examines Kirk, consults with Chapel, then nods at her and Rand and they leave the three men alone.

McCoy pulls up a chair and says, _okay, Jim. Talk to me. Tell me about these dreams._

Kirk shakes his head. _I wish I could. I can’t remember them._ He shrugs helplessly. _All I can remember are the feelings. Terror. Grief._

 _This can't go on, Jim,_ McCoy says, _and now I'm speaking as your doctor. We need to get to the bottom of these nightmares and get you back to your normal self._

_Is that wise, Doctor? Captain Kirk’s ‘normal’ does not exactly correlate to how that word is usually defined._

Both Kirk and McCoy stare at Spock.

 _...did you just make a joke?_ Kirk asks incredulously.

_You have not been in a joking mood lately, Captain, and Dr. McCoy is not known for his levity. Someone must think of the crew’s morale._

Kirk blinks owlishly at his First Officer then slowly grins. _I always knew I could count on you, Spock,_ he says then laughs, and it’s his old laugh and McCoy and Spock heave almost invisible sighs of relief.

 _When do we get to Cerberus?_ Kirk asks.

 _Two point three hours,_ Spock replies.

Kirk nods. _We’ll complete our mission to Cerberus, and then I’m all yours, Bones. You’re right. I can’t go on like this...I’m sorry I didn’t ask for help earlier._ He glances at Spock. _From either of you._

McCoy simply shrugs. _You’ll accept the help now. That's all that matters._

~~~~~

The landing party is small but mighty, Kirk jokes, and he sounds like his old self, even if slightly desperate. The supplies are being transported to Cerberus in shuttles along with volunteers while the officers go through the usual diplomatic courtesies with the Governor and the rest of the colonial government.

It _is_ a small landing party that beams down, though. Kirk, because he has to formally meet with the Governor and receive permission to provide relief but mainly because, well, because he's Captain Kirk and he's not likely to stay behind if there's a chance for him to actually do something. Spock, because when they arrived in orbit, they discovered the crops were infected with a fungus and he wants to examine it and perhaps determine the cause and a remedy. McCoy, of course, as if any force in the universe could keep him on the Enterprise while his daughter was in danger, but also because the colonists could use some medical assistance, which ultimately results in Nurse Chapel also going with them since he’ll need his most trusted nurse.

They beam down to the surface and blink in the bright sunlight. They’re in the middle of the town, and as soon as they finish transporting, there’s a cry of _Daddy!_ and McCoy turns sharply, a look on his face no one on the Enterprise, not even Kirk, has ever seen before. His face lights up and softens and he’s beaming (beaming! beaming? _McCoy?_ ) as he catches the girl who throws herself at him; he lifts her off her feet, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

 _Oh, shit,_ Chapel mutters and Kirk glances where she’s standing next to him, but her gaze is focused only on McCoy and his daughter. _I think my ovaries just exploded. I am in_ so _much trouble._

Kirk tries and fails to hide his grin as he turns back to the McCoys.

 _You’ve gotten so big,_ he hears McCoy mutter, and his normally grumpy voice is choked with a much softer emotion, and Kirk abruptly turns towards the others, but he’s distracted by a man striding forward dressed in a (familiar) ornate suit.

_Captain Kirk? I am Governor Farian._

Kirk shakes the offered hand, his smile forced, his eyes puzzled.

 _Thank you for arriving so quickly. Things were getting desperate._ The Governor hesitates. _Is something wrong, Captain?_

 _No, no,_ Kirk says after a pause, his eyes curiously blank, _except...have we met before?_

The Governor frowns, peers intently at him. _I don’t believe so, and I’m sure I would remember meeting_ you, _Captain. Now, please tell me what supplies you’ve brought with you._

Before Kirk can respond, McCoy turns to the landing party, his daughter still clinging to him like a limpet and Kirk shakes off his vague sense of déja vu. McCoy introduces Joanna to everyone, and after a brief discussion with the Governor, leaves still carrying his daughter, with Chapel striding beside him, to offer assistance at the town’s medical clinic.

As Spock questions the Governor about the course of the fungus, Kirk hears Joanna’s light voice chattering about the troops that had been called in, and how the Governor had gathered everyone in the town square, to meet the landing party when they beamed down.

Kirk turns and for the first time realizes the town square is filled with civilians and the Governor’s honor guard and the uniforms (are the same) are familiar and there’s a tall woman and a red-haired teenage girl standing together, watching him, and one of the guards is approaching them, his hand rising, and Kirk smoothly draws his phaser and shoots the guard -

\- and Kirk's world goes black.

Chaos immediately erupts with screams and shouts and running, and McCoy shoves Joanna at Chapel with barked orders to get somewhere safe, and rushes back to where Kirk is sprawled on the ground, unconscious. Spock meets his eyes as McCoy falls to his knees beside him.

 _The phaser was set to stun,_ Spock says and inclines his head towards the circle of people around the prone guard and dispassionately watches as several members of the honor guard detaches and heads cautiously towards them with drawn weapons and grim, determined faces.

 _Well, that’s something at least,_ McCoy mutters and bends to his patient.

  
* * * * *

_And so we’re back where we started._

_Affirmative. We must follow the girl._

_Yes._

They follow the thread of memories - the girl and the music and the guard - and even McCoy can tell there’s something wrong with the way Kirk’s memory winds its way into dead ends and endless loops. Spock, as delicately as a surgeon, as gracefully as a dancer, traces the threads, untangles them, separates what seems real from what seems artificial and removes those commands hidden in Kirk’s subconscious that tell him to forget or not-see or re-route to another thought or memory. McCoy watches with a doctor’s fascination, the horror he feels as a friend and a human firmly in check.

Beneath it all, beneath the overwhelming pain of grief and loss, McCoy can feel Kirk’s confusion and almost mindless gratitude that he’s not alone with this; Kirk knows they’re there, and knows - understands - they’re helping him even as the pain increases and he falls away from them, deeper into his memories...  



	3. Clementine - Part 2/2

  * * * * *

 

  
(It begins - naturally enough - with a woman.)

You’re twelve (still) when you disembark, all arms and legs and bitter defiance, still smarting from Frank’s smug satisfaction when your mother tiredly agreed to send you away - for stealing and wrecking a car that wasn’t even his! (In hindsight, telling Frank he’d stolen it first probably hadn’t been your smartest move.)

So here you are, exiled because you’d finally gone too far for even your mother to ignore.

Aunt Mari is waiting for you, tall and spare, with hard angles that are weatherworn and rounded, but not softened _(you’ve always been stronger than me Mari you’re the one who should have joined Starfleet)_. She’s dressed in the woman’s uniform of the colony: long dress, hair braided and wound around her head, and if you took her picture now you wouldn’t be able to tell five hundred years have passed since the last time women dressed like that _(it’s not my dream Winona it’s Sinclair’s I don’t like it but he’s my husband and besides he’s already spent everything we have on this goddamn land claim)_.

She welcomes you with a stern expression and a piercing stare. Her hands are calloused, and her fingers rasp against your skin as she lifts your chin so she can take a better look at you. She frowns critically, and your anger rises - you’ve only just got here and she’s judging you already -

_You look just like him. No wonder Frank’s such an asshole._

Your jaw drops with her hand.

_I don’t see much of your mother in you - that may be a good thing. Do you have everything?_

You nod and she nods. _Good. Let’s go._

She strides away and you have to run to keep up. Her legs are long and devour the ground like no other woman’s you’ve ever seen and she’s talking rapidly over her shoulder.

_You’re also too pale and skinny. We’ll change that fast enough. Oh, and get used to walking everywhere. We’re not rich enough to have any horses._

_Walking?_ you blurt and it’s the first thing you’ve managed to say since you got off the ship.

She shrugs. _We’re living in the 1880s. Most of the time._ She slows her steps so you can walk beside her and she gives you a smile, fleeting but sincere, and it transforms her stern face into something approaching beauty.

 _Welcome to Tarsus IV,_ she says. _Welcome to your new home._

Aunt Mari has pulled ahead again and you’re half-running in order to catch up when you stagger back under the sudden impact of someone barrelling out of (what ends up being) the general store and straight into you. You get quick impressions of carroty hair, a face that's one big freckle, and startled violet eyes, and then she's gone, her braid whipping behind her as the storekeeper lumbers out, bellowing _Clem! Clem! Get your ass back here!_

The storekeeper glances at you, and his scowl deepens.

 _Your nephew?_ he snaps at your aunt. _The troublemaker?_

Aunt Mari glances quickly at you, then pulls herself up to her full height and says _my nephew, yes._

 _Well, keep him away from that one,_ the storekeeper growls, _or he’ll never learn how to behave._

The storekeeper rakes you with a contemptuous look, and sneers.

_Too bad we can’t make Clem someone else's problem like your mother did._

Aunt Mari's face hardens and she puts a firm hand on your shoulder. _This is James Tiberius Kirk. He is my sister’s son, and the son of a Starfleet hero. He is_ not _a_ problem! _Good_ day _, Barnabas._

She urges you away from Barnabas and you don’t look back even when you hear the man hawk and spit behind you.

 _It’s all right, Jim,_ Aunt Mari says firmly, _we don’t shop there anyway._

 _Who’s the girl?_ you ask.

 _Clem? The village’s wild child. She’s a good kid, but she doesn’t fit in here - on Tarsus IV, I mean._ Aunt Mari slides an amused glance towards you. _I think you’re going to like her._

You can’t hide your surprise. _You’ll let me meet her?_

_I don’t have much choice. She’s our closest neighbour - and she also helps me with the baby._

_Baby?_

Aunt Mari nods, and her face softens. _I had a boy two months ago._

You blink, unsure how to react, although you finally manage, _congratulations._

She smiles another fleeting smile. _I’m afraid you’ll have to help me with him as well. Even though Clem and Wally - her father - practically live with us, they still have to work their own claim. And when Wally isn’t on my homestead, she has to look after him as well._

_Why? Is he sick?_

Aunt Mari laughs, and it’s a lovely, husky, cascading sound. _Only with gold fever. He’s a miner._

You frown. _And his daughter is named Clem? As in...Clementine? Really?_

Aunt Mari nods. _Yes, just like in the song._

You stare incredulously at her, then shake your head in disbelief. You almost feel sorry for the girl - that unfortunate red hair, those freckles, a gold miner for a father, and named Clementine too? And you thought your life was rough!

~~~~~

Aunt Mari and your new cousin Jed live in a small house, hand-built and sturdy like the woman who lives there - and it’s filled with the largest man you’ve ever seen. He turns out to be Clem’s father, Wally, and his huge size is in sharp contrast to the tiny, fragile baby he’s holding in the crook of his arm. You find yourself staring warily at the shaggy man, his face almost obscured by his rich, full beard. He’s a poster-boy for the stereotype of a 19th-century gold miner, and you wonder if he carefully plans his appearance, or if it’s really just how he looks. You’re fascinated in spite of yourself.

You look around as Aunt Mari makes supper, and ask _where’s Uncle Sinclair?_

She freezes for a moment, then says, _he left two years ago. It turned out living in the 19th century wasn’t quite as much fun as he thought._ Her voice is as dry as the dust outside.

You blink, then look at Jed. You look at Wally, who shrugs sheepishly, and you blush and shift uncomfortably. Frank was bad enough, you think, and now there’s Wally, and you just can’t deal with another guy who’s going to hate you because the woman in his life loves you...not that you’re sure Aunt Mari will ever actually love you but still. Wally smiles at you, and his eyes are soft when he looks at Aunt Mari but you’re not fooled. It’s only a matter of time, you think cynically.

Aunt Mari gives you a hard stare. _Shit happens, Jim. You make choices and live with the consequences. And how you choose to deal with the choices you don’t get to make is all a part of that._ You find you can’t look away from her eyes. _That’s something you need to learn._

You flush, resentment rising.

 _I think I’m living with the consequences right now,_ you mutter.

_Are you?_

_I’m here, aren’t I?_

She shrugs. _Whether this place is a punishment or a blessing is entirely up to you._

She puts the food on the table. _Dig in; there’s plenty more where that came from. Trust me - you’ll need it._

Everyone looks over as the door opens and the girl - Clem - bursts into the house with a loud clatter.

You stare at her.

Her hair really is an unfortunate shade of carroty red, caught in a braid that's fraying at the edges. Like you thought, her face is one giant freckle. She’s taller than you, her figure just as boyish, and she looks like she’s your age or possibly a year or so older.

She stares at you.

Her expression is thoughtfully assessing and she stands in the kitchen like she owns it (maybe she does) and you think her eyes are too old for someone so young. But her eyes are really violet and truly beautiful and you both look wordlessly at each other and there’s something - something familiar about her _(I don't know Wally it’s either love at first sight or they recognize a partner in crime when they see one)._

 _So,_ Clem finally says, drawls, deliberately snide, _you’re the hero’s kid._

You nod, eyes wide. _Jim,_ you finally manage to say. You’re acutely aware of Aunt Mari and Wally behind you.

 _Well, Jimmy-boy,_ Clem drawls, _I’m not impressed. Couldn’t your dad - I don’t know – have put a brick against the gas pedal or something?_

You gape and stammer and finally manage to stutter _I don’t think starships work like that._

Aunt Mari snorts inelegantly, and says _play nice and come eat._

Clem gives you a cheeky, challenging grin and you finally know why there’s that sense of familiarity: you’ve seen that expression, that attitude, often enough on your own face. She’s a kindred spirit, you realize, and you see equal recognition reflected in her eyes.

She saunters to the table. _Let’s eat, Jimmy-boy, then I’ll show you around the homestead._

~~~~~

You and Clem are instant friends. You wash up and she shows you around the homestead and then she and Wally go home _(I think Jim needs you to himself for awhile)_. The next day, Clem arrives and helps you with the chores, then looks expectantly at Aunt Mari, who sighs in resignation, looks you straight in the eye and says, very seriously, _we live on a knife’s edge here, Jim, and Governor Kodos rules the colony with an iron hand. Most of us - Barnabas notwithstanding - are good people, just trying to get by and be good neighbors. So. Don’t harm the crops, the food stores, or the animals. And don’t take anything you can’t replace or return. Penalties here are..._ draconian, _to say the least, and even being a hero’s son may not be enough to save you._

She stops and you wait.

Finally you frown.

_That’s it?_

She smiles her fleeting smile. _Try not to get caught,_ she says and shoos you away.

You walk beside Clem in puzzled silence, thinking of Aunt Mari’s words, then you blurt, _what did you take yesterday?_

She shrugs. _Nothing. Sometimes I just like messing with him._

~~~~~

The summer passes in a gentle stream of slow, endless days. You miss Iowa, but not Frank, and you seldom saw your mother, so there’s nothing to miss there, and you refuse to think of Sam at all - not that you know where he is anyway.

Aunt Mari is true to her word and you work hard beside her in the fields, and you build muscles and a tan and your hair bleaches blonder in the sun. But Aunt Mari also believes in play, and the days pass in a haze of heat and dust and bare feet toughening against the ground; there are escapades that mildly terrorize the neighbors and the village, and you learn how to ride on ‘borrowed’ horses that are never taken when there’s work to be done and are always returned, rubbed down, fed and watered, before you and Clem fade away. When you’re not avoiding capture, you’re wandering with Clem through the gently rolling hills, the vast flat lands, and sometimes - when Wally’s been gone too long - you and Clem go camping in the mountains that loom on the horizon and search for him, just to make sure he's still okay. In between adventures, there's hard work, both on Aunt Mari's homestead and sometimes with Wally, searching for gold. While you never quite trust Wally, you learn to tolerate him and he seems to be gruffly fond of you although probably more for Aunt Mari’s and Clem’s sakes than your own. But at least he doesn’t seem to actively dislike you, and that’s a win in your book.

Evenings are spent in lamplight, playing games, or singing songs in Aunt Mari’s sitting room, everyone gathered around the ancient piano. It sounds tinny and smells funny, but Wally energetically pounds out songs that range from the era they (pretend to) live in to the most modern songs they know even though it’s been several standard years since the songs were even remotely popular.

That’s when you discover that Clem hates the song she’s named for; she doesn’t like the original Clementine’s fate and so Wally changes the words, and sings of a Clementine who leaves Tarsus IV _(like her brother, Valentine)(do you really have a brother named Valentine?)(Micah, actually, but Dad couldn’t get it to rhyme)_ and lives a long, successful, happy life with the singer of the song.

It doesn’t really help much, but Clem always ends up reluctantly smiling at her dad when he sings it (not when you do though; she usually chases you until she catches you and then makes you sorry you dared sing it to her at all - which, of course, only means you sing it to her as often as you can).

Mostly, though, there are long days of wandering exploration, adventure and trouble, and during your travels, you and Clem talk.

She tells you about Tarsus, about Governor Kodos, and you see him or his honor guard occasionally, usually when they come to collect the taxes _(tribute Wally - you know that’s what it really is)_ or take the food quota _(we’re each supposed to be self-sufficient - I don’t see those parasites in the capital growing their own food!)(Now, Mari...)._

Clem also tells you about Sinclair, about him leaving, and about how her dad and your aunt - well, the less said about _that_ the better and you both grimace and shudder and try to rid your minds of those thoughts. The two of you decide to tease Barnabas after that conversation, just so you can clear your minds.

Summer fades, the harvest comes and the honor guard takes half of it, and you tell Clem about Frank and the car, about Sam leaving you behind, about your (only) friend Johnny and how he writes to you regularly (or as regularly as he can given the amount of contact Tarsus has with the rest of the Federation) but Johnny’s moving to Bersallis III and there's even less Starfleet presence there, so who knows if you'll ever meet again?

The weather begins to turn once the harvest is finished, and with it comes shoes and school and a brief visit from your mother, who brings news of Sam _(he’s fine, Jim, living in California)_. She doesn’t mention Frank and you don’t ask. You don’t ask to go home and she doesn’t offer, and you both barely hide your relief as you say good-bye. But immediately after she leaves you find Clem and you build forts and recruit ‘soldiers’ and you wage war on a small scale until your mother’s visit is a dim memory.

Winter settles in, and in spite of your (well-earned) reputation and Clem's, the neighbors no longer cringe when they see you because you'd willingly pitched in with the harvest, helped raise barns and houses, looked after children when needed, and they know you well enough now to know that while you and Clem will always cause a certain level of mischief and chaos, and lead their children far astray, neither of you will ever deliberately cause permanent harm, you’ll never take anything you can't replace or return - and you’ll never, ever get caught.

This change of heart is a godsend when Wally goes missing in the mountains in mid-winter and the neighbors band together to search for him. Aunt Mari is grey-faced but stoic when she tells you and Clem they found him; Clem sways but doesn’t break, and she and Aunt Mari through some hidden feminine way you don’t understand hold on to each other without ever actually touching or saying a word. You never sing _that_ song at Clem again although on occasion she sits at the piano in stillness and silence before slowly picking out, one by one, the familiar notes.

The winter lasts forever.

When it finally softens into spring, the hard brittle grief eases slightly and Aunt Mari and Clem begin to look around again and actually see what's happening. _I miss him,_ Aunt Mari says, and her voice wobbles slightly, _but life continues, and it’s almost time to plant crops again._ With the beginning of new life in the fields, new life seems to also spring up in Aunt Mari and Clem.

You turn thirteen that spring, and you spend the day in the field, and Aunt Mari and Clem bake you a cake and give you simple gifts (a polished rock from Clem; a hand-made shirt from Aunt Mari).

You're thirteen, and you're still all arms and legs _(three inches Winona you won't recognize him when you see him)_ but the defiance isn't quite so bitter and strong. Clem, too, seems softer, some of her hard edges smoothed by grief and loss and healing, and you try not to think about the fact that her body is becoming softer, too. She’s your _pal_ , not a _girl_ , and you don’t want your pal to become just another Tarsus IV colonial woman, battered by the weather and hard labour and the life, all humour and mischief, vitality and spontaneity seemingly leeched somehow into the very soil she works. She’s _Clem_ and she should always, always be like this: adventurous, impetuous, reckless, and she’s yours in a way no one else has ever been, not even Sam. She’s yours, and you're going to hold on to her with all your might.

You turn thirteen, and in spite of the Wally-shaped hole in your lives, it’s the happiest birthday you can remember, because Aunt Mari gives you a hug and says she's proud of you and she sends you off with Clem with a smile and a _be careful._

She trusts you, you realize as you start to wander off with Clem, bickering companionably about where to go and what to do. More than that: she loves you, and accepts you, just as you are.

You look back, and Aunt Mari is framed in the doorway, Jed on her hip, standing straight and tall, all sharp angles and strong lines and pride and stoic endurance. You pause, struck by the picture she makes, by the beauty you see, and even I recognize the crystal clarity of the moment. She's beautiful, and strong, and my heart clenches almost painfully with love for the woman in the doorway, the boy on her hip and the girl beside me. Then Clem calls my name and I turn to follow her into another adventure. I don’t say anything to her because I don’t want her to laugh - and I don’t have the words anyway.

There’s an almost unbearably sweet innocence that permeates the spring days as they lengthen into summer and the crops grow in the fields, and fall is upon us before we know it, and Clem and I are camping out (not in the mountains - we haven't been to the mountains since the men came back with Wally; Clem says there's nothing there for her anymore). It’s our last chance before the harvest begins and then school. We've bickered over the latest novel we'd read and it morphs into arguing about Governor Kodos’ policies, local politics, harvesting techniques, and whether we’ve been too easy on Barnabas this summer; he almost smiles when he sees us coming now.

We finally lapse into companionable silence. We're poking aimlessly at the fire and I'm starting to think it may be time to go to sleep when Clem suddenly asks _are you sorry? About the car, I mean._

I jerk back slightly; she's never asked me questions about the car or Frank and there's a serious tone to her voice that's never been there before. She's watching me, an unreadable expression in those violet eyes, her face half-hidden in the light and shadows cast by the fire.

I scowl and shrug and poke at the ground in front of me with the burnt stick, and hope she'll get the message and change the subject.

 _Jimmy-boy?_ she coaxes and Clem never coaxes - she forces and bludgeons and gnaws until you finally tell her anything she wants to know just to get her to quit it already. But she doesn't coax.

 _Jim?_ she says softly, and that makes me stare at her in surprise. _What were you thinking?_ she asks, and I see she's truly curious. Not angry, not disappointed, not judging or tired or just finished with me and wanting me to be someone else's problem.

 _It wasn't his car,_ I say, still defiant, still angry, and it doesn’t really answer her question, but she only nods.

_What did you plan to do after you stole it?_

I shrug again. _Go away. Sam did - why shouldn't I?_

She nods again, as if the idea of being twelve and taking an antique car and running forever was a perfectly normal idea, perfectly acceptable, perfectly logical.

 _Have you ever felt like that?_ I blurt out. _Like you just wanted to run until you couldn't run anymore?_

 _All the time,_ she says, and looks sad, and I can again see her, older, living like all the other women here on Tarsus IV, something gone, something vital missing from her.

 _Come with me,_ I urge. _When I go home - come with me._

Clem laughs, but it’s sad and old. _I can’t,_ she says. _Dad hadn’t worked off his debt to Governor Kodos yet, and with my brother living off-planet, I’m the one who owes it now._ She blinks rapidly. _My children will owe it, too._ She gives me a twisted smile. _It’s why Mari can’t leave, either._

Rage rises inside me.

 _I don’t care. When it’s time for me to go home, I’m taking all of you with me. You. Aunt Mari. Jed. There_ has _to be a way!_

She laughs again, but this time it's her normal laugh, and for a moment she’s herself again, fourteen and young and my pal, my partner-in-crime, _mine_. She grins at me, something soft in her face, in her eyes, and like with Aunt Mari, there’s a moment of sudden crystal clarity.

She’s beautiful.

She’s mine.

And I’m in love.

~~~~~

When the fungus infects the crops, it spreads too quickly for anyone to do anything. It feels like the crops are ruined in hours, although it’s actually several days. It doesn't really matter though; the results are the same. The crops are gone.

All of them.

Governor Kodos himself addresses the village in the town square.

_I’ve called for help, but no one has responded. We don’t know when or if Starfleet is going to arrive. In the meantime, we’re collecting all the food stores and implementing a strict rationing system._

We stretch our rations as much as possible, and Clem and I scavenge whatever we can from the plains and the hills. I even go to the mountains to search for something, anything, we can eat. But Tarsus IV is a mostly barren planet, and there are no native animals, or at least none large enough to feed more than eight thousand people for an indefinite period of time.

We find a few things, but never enough.

The winter is hard, and I learn the true meaning of hunger. I become used to its constant presence, the worry about the next meal never far from my mind. Clem and I notice Aunt Mari’s portions becoming progressively smaller, and we begin to do the same, doing whatever we can to stretch what little we have.

I find myself scouring the sky, pretending I’ll be able to see it when (my mother) the starship arrives to save us.

But the starship doesn't arrive, no matter how much I hope or how intently I watch, and we all grow thin, and the baby dies in the night, silent and small, as we sit vigil and Aunt Mari’s tears are just as silent as she washes and dresses him and sends me to town to get the doctor and the undertaker. They’re sad-eyed and solemn and tell Aunt Mari in low tones that there were four other deaths in the night, and if she wants to bury the baby on the farm, they’ll sign off on it.

I build the coffin myself and I tuck the doll I’d made him for his birthday into his arms so he won’t be lonely, and tears keep blurring my vision as Clem and I dig the grave beside Wally's. Aunt Mari sits silent and unnaturally still beside the crib, staring at nothing, but she stands grim and proud and unwavering at the grave site, and I send her and Clem away before I cover the coffin with dirt.

~~~~~

Aunt Mari mourns, the colony starves, and the death toll continues to rise.

Clem and I walk into the neighbouring village, having searched the territory in between once more for something - anything - we could use as food. We’re tired and thirsty, looking for the water pump in the town square before we begin the trek back to our own village. Clem notices the honor guard before I do, and she pulls me to a stop behind one of the stores that border the square before anyone notices we’re there.

It looks like the entire village is gathered there. Everyone has wasted away to skin and bone, and they look tired, huddled together in groups in the cold air (although the snow has melted - finally) and unnaturally quiet. The Governor, too, looks hungry, but the honor guard are in crisp, bright uniforms and look suspiciously well-fed and my eyes narrow as I look them over.

We're too far away to hear the proclamation that’s being read, but I can feel my heart start to pound, fear coiling in my stomach, as the crowd gasps and begins to loudly protest, and the guards begin to drag some of the people away, who scream and struggle and reach out to those left behind.

 _Oh my God,_ Clem mutters beside me, and then repeats it over and over like it’s truly a prayer and then the guards start firing - and Clem’s hand is tight over my mouth, stifling my cries of shock and dismay and she holds me back when I try to rush towards the guards to stop them from firing and firing and firing and _firing_ and the people fall and keep falling and I can’t make myself wake up, to make this stop -

 _We have to get back,_ she hisses, and the terror in her voice breaks through my panicked haze. _We’re next._

It takes long, endless moments for her words to sink in and then I nod and we run -

We run.

We _run._

Lungs burn.

Heart pounds.

And all the while my mind is racing, trying to make sense of what I’ve seen, trying to think of what I can do to stop it happening again - there has to be something - something - _something -_

Our feet pound a rhythm, our breaths rasp, too loud in my ears, and each pounding footstep echoes - _too late, too late, too late -_

We skid to a halt on our homestead, and we _are_ too late - Aunt Mari is already gone, the door on the house hanging drunkenly from its hinges where it’s been kicked in - I double over, desperately gasping for air, retching, legs shaking, Clem beside me.

 _Come on,_ she gasps.

 _Where?_ I demand, my voice harsh, and there are tears in my eyes.

_We can hide in the mountains. We can find something to eat - Dad spent weeks there! I’m sure - there’s - there’s - there’s insects! There have to be insect nests all over the mountains! We can survive off those and wait for Starfleet!_

_And leave the others to die?_

_What else can we do?_

_Convince them to stop – to wait a little longer -_

_This isn't something that can be stopped with fast talking, Jim!_

She stares at me.

I stare back.

She drops her gaze and swallows hard.

 _Okay,_ she says, and she sounds like she’s about to cry - but that’s ridiculous, she’s Clem, and Clem never cries. Not when we buried her father. Not when we buried her brother. Not even when we watched our neighbours in the next village shot down.

We head to our village, jogging now, but still moving fast, and my mind is racing. There _has_ to be a way to convince them to wait - we have a whole fucking planet to search for food! There has to be something we can eat! Are there no fish in the oceans? Algae, even? _Something?_ And if Clem thought we could survive in the mountains living on insects until help came - and that wasn’t a bad idea at all - then there was food, we just had to look harder for it, that’s all -

But everyone’s already gathered in the town square, and Kodos is eyeing the crowd like he’s searching for someone or something in particular.

We run into the square, and I shout _wait! There has to be another way!_

Kodos turns and stares, pinning me with his sharp, penetrating eyes.

_What’s this? You dare to speak?_

_There has to be food on this planet! There may be large nests of insects in the mountains; we can use those – right, Clem?_

But Clem is already in the grip of the guards, and she struggles desperately as they push her unceremoniously into the square with the rest of the villagers. She runs to Aunt Mari, who puts an arm around her, and glares defiantly at Kodos and the closest guard. I’m so distracted I’m startled when my own arms are grabbed, and I begin to struggle, getting a few good kicks in, but everything I try is useless against their iron grips.

 _Bring him here,_ Kodos demands. He coldly surveys me. _I know who are,_ he says slowly. _The hero’s son._

My chin goes up, defensive and arrogantly proud. _I am James Tiberius Kirk, and this is murder!_

 _This is what needs to be done to save the majority of the colony._ He smiles grimly. _I have no need to justify myself to you, boy._

 _Put him with the others?_ a guard asks, indicating the crowd in the village square with a jerk of his head.

_No. No. He is the hero’s son. We may need that bloodline._

_Bloodline?_ I ask, confused _ _._ What?_

But Kodos ignores me, and I see Aunt Mari and Clem, standing firm and proud and Aunt Mari stares contemptuously at the Governor and says coldly, _you're a fool, Kodos. You’ve always been a fool. Starfleet won’t let you get away with this._

Kodos sneers. _Do you see Starfleet anywhere?_

Aunt Mari looks at me and smiles - not her fleeting smile, but a slow, sweet smile that lights up her face. _Not yet. But soon._

And there’s a horrible beauty about her, and it blinds me, and I look at Clem, and she’s smiling too, her violet eyes wide and wet as she meets mine, and she’d known, back on the homestead, known her fate - my fate - how had she known? But they smile, and their love is too much too much too much to see to bear to hold to deserve and I’m screaming as the guards walk towards them towards everyone and the guards lift their hands and the phasers flash and flash and flash and -

(McCoy realizes emotions are amplifying - resonating - Kirk’s pain mixing with Spock’s from the destruction of Vulcan and the sight of his mother dropping out of reach of rescue.

_Spock! We have to break the mind-meld!_

He knows Spock can hear him - feel him - but he’s caught - they’re all caught - in the wild oscillations of emotions and memories and McCoy suddenly remembers ancient footage of a bridge rocking and twisting until it finally shattered, and they’re caught like that, the three of them, and they’re all going to break if something isn’t done and McCoy stops thinking at all and _pushes -_ )

~~~~~

Wordless screams echoed in Kirk’s ears; his throat felt raw as he blinked and stared frantically around the unfamiliar room. He gasped for air, his lungs aching, his body shaking, like he'd been desperately running, trying to get back to the village in the here and now rather than only in his memories.

His memories.

He doubled over, gasping, retching, the pain searing as the memories continued to assault him -

 _\- straining struggling fighting against the guards’ hands - Aunt Mari falling - Clem - falling - how do you murder so many people all at once? - screaming now just screaming as Clem falls - Aunt Mari falls - they fall and fall and fall and fall - family, neighbours, friends but not him no not him not the_ hero’s _son -_

Oblivion.

~~~~~

McCoy swayed slightly as he set aside the hypo. His hands shook as he used the tricorder to check Kirk's vital signs. The abrupt, unintentional end to the three-way mind-meld (the horror still lingered; the love and grief and pain still echoed) had left McCoy feeling nauseous, his head pounding, and feeling somehow alien in his own skin.

His shoulders slumped and he wiped sweat from his forehead. He glanced at Spock and his eyes widened as he took in the Vulcan's clammy skin, the bewildered, pained expression in the wide, dark eyes. McCoy hurried to help Spock stand then manoeuvred him to the only other bed in their makeshift prison cell and pushed him on to it.

McCoy picked up the tricorder again, and was relieved to discover Spock’s vital signs were stable although he was obviously exhausted, in mild shock and probably emotionally shattered. McCoy cringed away from his own reactions; he didn’t have time. He was a doctor first, and he had patients who needed him.

Which explained why he wasn’t particularly pleased when the door slid open and Chapel was ushered into the room, a member of the honor guard behind her.

The guard said, “The Governor wants answers. Now.”

The ‘or else’ wasn't spoken, but McCoy knew a threat when he (didn’t) hear one.

McCoy turned blazing eyes on the unlucky young man and snarled, “I'll go with you once I’ve taken care of my patients, and not one moment before. If the Governor doesn’t like it, he can kiss. My. Ass. Got it?”

The guard's eyes widened as he gulped and nodded. Chapel slid an exasperated albeit reluctantly proud glance McCoy’s way.

Spock struggled to sit up. “I am fine, Doctor. I am ready to go with you,” he said, or rather tried to say. His words were so slurred with exhaustion and reaction, he could have been offering to dance a jig for all anyone could make out.

McCoy snorted. “Whatever you say,” he agreed, and hit him with a sedative that had Spock sleeping peacefully in less than ten seconds.

~~~~~

McCoy trembled with exhaustion as he explained to the Governor what they'd discovered, and presented the proof Chapel had quickly found to back-up the story. These were records of Kirk's journey to Tarsus IV, and more importantly the ship’s logs from the starship that returned him to Earth. Those described an extremely traumatized young boy who suffered from screaming nightmares and violent grief, uncontrollable emotional outbursts, and an unrelenting anger, no, rage - no, virulent _hatred_ – towards those responsible for the massacre. Even learning Kodos had been killed while resisting arrest when Starfleet arrived didn’t soothe him and he returned to Earth a very different child than when he'd left.

“Once back on Earth, his memories were carefully hidden,” McCoy explained, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion.

The Governor frowned. “A Vulcan?”

“Unlikely. A Vulcan would have removed the memories entirely, not simply hidden them through an intricate web of misdirection – if one could have been convinced to do anything at all.”

“Hypnosis then,” the Governor muttered.

McCoy nodded tiredly. “The memories were hidden extremely well. It’s unlikely they would have ever resurfaced if it weren't for a string of random coincidences that built upon each other until Kirk’s memories finally broke through.” He blinked as the Governor's face wavered in and out of focus then plowed on. “When Captain Kirk shot the guard, Governor, he thought he was shooting someone who was about to murder his aunt and his best friend. Thank God he didn’t take the time to set his phaser on kill.”

The Governor stared expressionlessly at McCoy, then snorted cynically. “I know the Captain’s reputation - _everyone_ knows the Captain's reputation! I find it hard to believe that seeing my guard - unarmed! - walking towards a family unit could trigger anything like that! Doctor McCoy, I want you to -”

“Governor, with all due respect.”

Everyone turned with surprise to Chapel.

The Governor frowned. “And you are...?”

“Nurse Christine Chapel, and currently the commanding officer of our landing party, as well as our Chief Medical Officer since you’ve detained Dr. McCoy. This man is exhausted.”

“And my man is in sick bay! Recovering from an unprovoked attack from your Captain!”

“I know, sir. I was there.”

McCoy blinked owlishly at Chapel’s dry, firm tones.

She said, “Your guard is resting comfortably, and he’ll have a headache for the next few days but fortunately, he’ll fully recover with no ill effects. Doctor McCoy, Mr. Spock and Captain Kirk have just finished a three-way mind-meld into memories that were deliberately hidden from the Captain himself. If you think that was a simple task, I suggest you try it yourself someday. Speaking as the Chief Medical Officer, all three of these men need rest before they’ll be in any shape to answer any more questions.”

The Governor leaned away from Chapel's clipped, cold tones then caught himself, but his eyes slid away from her glare.

“Yes, all right,” he said, then cleared his throat. “All right,” he said again, more firmly. He nodded at his Captain of the Guard. “Show Dr. McCoy to - to -” he hesitated, and McCoy carefully controlled his amusement. They weren't used to having to detain criminals, he thought fuzzily. “Find someplace for him to spend the night,” the Governor sighed, then his expression hardened. “I want all three men here, in front of me, at 08 -” he hesitated and McCoy half-expected to see light shining from the other side of the Governor’s skull from the force of Chapel’s glare, “10:00 hours?”

Chapel nodded. “Thank you, sir.” She turned to McCoy. “Doctor? After you.”

~~~~~

“You want to know the worst part?” McCoy grumbled to Kirk and Spock the next morning. “I was asleep before she’d even finished thanking the Captain of the Guard for escorting us to my so-called prison cell. I woke up this morning without my shoes or my pants!”

That, he was relieved to see, got a ghost of a smile from his still too-quiet captain. McCoy finished scanning Kirk’s vital signs and read the results with a satisfied grunt.

“Everything’s normal,” he said. “How’re you feeling, Jim?”

Kirk shrugged, his eyes on his hands. “Like I’ve just watched people I love shot dead in front of me.” His voice was hoarse and he winced as he swallowed with some effort. He clenched his fists and blinked rapidly. “How long am I going to feel this way?” he demanded softly.

McCoy shrugged. “As long as it takes for you to work through the grieving process. You actually _did_ see people you love shot dead in front of you. You’ve simply never had the opportunity to work through it.”

“How can I command my ship if I can’t even control my own actions? That guard -”

“He’s all right, Jim. He’s in better shape than you are.”

“That’s not the point! What if I - what if it happens again?”

“You have the memories now,” Spock said, and his voice was remarkably gentle. “You reacted to the guard's actions because the memories had been seeping back for months only you did not understand what was happening, or why. For those few moments, you were back on Tarsus IV, and you were trying to protect your family and friends, doing what you could not do when you were thirteen.”

Kirk slowly raised his eyes and stared impassively at Spock. “Not sure that makes me feel any more confident,” he said drily.

“It'll take time, Jim,” McCoy said, “but you’ll eventually assimilate the memories, deal with the emotions, come to terms with what happened. And you know there’s plenty of support available to help you do that.”

Kirk nodded, but there was exhausted defeat in the slump of his shoulders.

~~~~~

The meeting with the Governor was tense, but ultimately successful. Spock confirmed McCoy’s story from the night before, and Kirk’s somber and haunted expression as he apologized certainly helped the Governor to believe their story. Kirk somehow suspected, though, that the hard glare Chapel kept focused on the Governor was what truly persuaded him to release them from custody with only a reprimand and a minor complaint to Starfleet. (Rand later assured Kirk it had simply been added to all the others and no one from Starfleet Command even blinked an eye. He wasn’t sure if he was appalled or amused.)

Before he beamed back to the Enterprise with Spock, Kirk met privately with the guard he’d shot, who turned out to be just a boy, not much older than Kirk had been during that wonderful and terrible time on Tarsus IV. Kirk spent several hours with him, and while he wasn’t quite his usual charming, charismatic Captain Kirk, the guard was still smiling and star-struck by the time Kirk took his leave.

McCoy and Chapel returned to the ship several local days later, a few minutes before the Enterprise left orbit. McCoy reluctantly left Joanna behind, partly because a starship was no place for children, especially not one whose mission was to explore uncharted space, but mainly because his ex-wife would have hunted him down and, as he told Chapel with a rueful grimace, worn his guts for garters. Instead, he gave Joanna a fierce hug and promised to be back when he took his leave. If his eyes were a little damp when he materialized in the transporter room, no one mentioned it.

Kirk brooded. He read everything he could find about Tarsus IV, and was shocked and amazed when he looked again at the many searches he’d run about Clem.

Everything was there, mocking him from the screen, and he hadn’t seen it.

He hadn't _seen_ it.

He brooded, and he remembered, and he mourned, and as much as he detested it, he worked with the shipboard therapist and tried not to think about how this experience may have changed him, or how he felt about the fact that the memories had been hidden from him for so many years (or the fact that he’d had his two closest friends inside his mind). As he told the therapist with a ghost of his familiar arrogant smirk, in this case at least, one crisis at a time was more than enough for him.

It was several missions and several standard weeks later that he finally invited Spock and McCoy to his quarters, pulled out a bottle of Earth’s finest whiskey, and said, “I never thanked you.”

Spock and McCoy each raised an eyebrow and Kirk shook his head, amused in spite of himself. “Seriously, Spock - do you give a course on that - that eyebrow thing?”

“Affirmative.”

Kirk sputtered a laugh, and kept laughing, loud and boisterous and joyful. Spock and McCoy exchanged glances and their shoulders relaxed. They both knew and silently acknowledged that Kirk had a long road of healing ahead of him, but for the first time since their harrowing mind-meld on Cerberus, McCoy believed the Kirk they’d once known would - _could_ \- return. Changed, yes, but healthy and whole and as wildly impetuous and unpredictable as always.

He hoped.

 * * * * *

(It ends - naturally enough - with a woman.)

Kirk’s palms were sweating as he waited for his mother’s face to appear onscreen. He hoped his nervousness didn’t show as he greeted her and spent several minutes in stilted, innocuous small talk.

Finally, his mother smiled tiredly and said cynically, “Why’d you call, Jim? It’s not just to find out what I’ve been doing lately.”

For a moment, the familiar anger and hurt ghosted across his senses, and his hackles rose. Then he remembered Aunt Mari and thought, they’d been sisters; he could be kind to his mother for his aunt’s sake.

“Tarsus IV.”

The expression on his mother’s face told him everything he’d suspected.

“How...?” she whispered.

Kirk forced himself to shrug carelessly. “A series of coincidences,” he said more calmly than he felt. “The post-hypnotic programming...broke.”

His mother sat back, the breath whooshing out of her and they sat in silence.

Finally, Winona sighed and said, “What do you want to know?”

Kirk hesitated, his thoughts racing. There were _so many_ things he wanted to know: what had happened to Aunt Mari - to Clem - after they were shot down in that village square? Had Kodos’ guards been taking more than their share of the rations? Mostly, though, he wanted to know why - why hadn’t Starfleet come to their aid earlier? Why had Kodos thought his actions justified - or sane? Why did so many die? Why did he live? Why had his memories been locked away? _Why?_

His mother watched him, her eyes pleading and he suddenly realized he’d been speaking at least some of his thoughts aloud.

“I sent you to Tarsus because I thought it would be good for you,” she said softly, her eyes shifting to stare past him. Kirk realized she was speaking to her memories rather than to him. “Sam was gone, and Frank - well, Frank had had enough, and I was afraid that if you did one more thing he’d either throw you out or murder you, or do _something_ to finally break you. And then I thought of Mari, and I thought living with her, forced to work for your keep, forced to work with your hands, would teach you the discipline you lacked. And if you were gone, Frank would be happy, life would be peaceful, and you might come back changed for the better, but not - not broken.”

She paused for so long, Kirk wondered if she’d forgotten he was there.

“You came back broken anyway,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “The famine - the massacre -” her breath caught in a sob. “My baby, my boy - so unlike your usual self. So angry. So hurt. So _damaged_. When the doctors said they could lock the memories away, I jumped at the chance. You weren’t supposed to _ever_ remember!”

Kirk stared at her, his eyes wide.

“What was the harm?” she begged him. “There was no reason for you to keep those memories - and every reason to take them away from you. _They served no purpose!”_

“Mom,” Kirk whispered sadly.

She sobbed again, once, then took a deep shuddering breath.

“I was trying to protect you,” she said, and sniffed, wiping her nose.

Kirk stared silently at her. He saw faint echoes of her sister in her face, in her voice _(you look just like him no wonder Frank’s such an asshole)_ , and he shook with grief - and love - for the woman he’d only really known for a year and half. He shook with regret for the woman in front of him, whom he’d never really known at all.

He said, gently, “I know.”

~~~~~

McCoy and Spock sat in thoughtful silence after Kirk finished speaking.

McCoy said, speaking slowly, carefully, “I can understand your mother’s thinking; her reasons for the choice she made. In her place - if it was my daughter...” he trailed off and shrugged uncomfortably.

Kirk nodded with a twisted smile. His fingers tightened around his glass, the knuckles whitening.

“Who would I have been,” he murmured, “if I’d been allowed to come to terms with what I had witnessed? If I’d been allowed to grieve properly? Would I have wasted all those years of my life, or would I have joined Starfleet earlier, or would I have become even more self-destructive? Would I have made peace with Frank and Sam and my mother - who had to mourn the loss of her sister and nephew in private? Is that why we’ve never closed the distance between us? Because I survived? Because I was spared due to being George Kirk’s son but not because I was _her_ son, too?”

“Captain,” Spock said, “there is no way to know for certain what might have happened if your mother had made a different choice. Perhaps, in another timeline, you recovered and continued on to still become the famous Captain of the Starship Enterprise. Perhaps you never joined Starfleet. Perhaps you died. Speculation is, ultimately, counter-productive because you will simply never be able to _know_.”

They sat in somber silence for a long moment, then Spock said, “There is, however, a solution to your current situation.”

Both McCoy and Kirk glanced sharply at the tone of his voice.

“As you know, Vulcans can permanently remove memories. If you wish, I can - under Dr. McCoy's supervision – perform that action. Alternatively, I can dull the associated emotions. I do not make this offer lightly and without caution, but it can be done.”

Kirk considered him thoughtfully.

“I can’t imagine that would be something the Vulcan High Council would approve,” he murmured finally.

“No,” Spock acknowledged, “but they are not here.”

“This option doesn’t seem...logical,” McCoy said, delicately for him.

“It is eminently logical to eliminate an impediment to the optimal performance of official duties, Doctor,” Spock responded, “and I offer a solution to the Captain’s emotional distress, a solution that is within our collective power to achieve. However, ‘logic’ is not the reason I have made the offer.”

“No?” McCoy asked, a thread of amusement in his voice. “Then what is the reason?”

Spock turned his calm, dark gaze on Kirk. “You are in pain. You are my Captain. And you are...my friend. If this is all I can offer to ease your pain, Jim, then offer it I shall.”

Kirk blinked at Spock, then whispered, his voice hoarse, “Thank you. Thank you. But...no.”

Kirk stood and slowly paced his quarters, touching the few knick-knacks that adorned the spartan room. He paused in front of the frame that displayed, in rotation, pictures of his parents and brother and, more recently, his friends on the Enterprise.

“My mother thought she was doing the right thing,” he said softly, lightly touching the frame, “but our memories make us who we are - the good and the bad. The events in our lives, how we respond to them - they define us. We are stronger - and weaker - than we can ever begin to imagine. There are people who have suffered unspeakable horrors, and who have gone on to make the universe a better place. They make a choice; they _choose_ to be worthy of surviving when others did not; they _choose_ to honor the memory of those who could not be saved or cured or protected. The human spirit can be evil and selfish and destructive - and it can also be unbearably, blindingly... _beautiful._

“My mother did what she thought was right. But in taking away the bad memories, she also took away the good: a strong woman who accepted me as I was and loved me for it. A childhood friend, a beautiful girl, a...soul mate, if you will. Both were people I loved. Very much. And I was never allowed to mourn them, or treasure them or honor them the way I should have honored them.”

Kirk paused, frowning. The others simply watched and waited.

“Our memories make us who we are,” Kirk repeated softly then bowed his head and closed his eyes. “I know you didn’t make your offer easily, Spock. Nor lightly. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”

He opened his eyes, lifted his head and smiled at his First Officer. “Thank you.” He held out his hand, and Spock slowly reached out and shook it.

“And Bones,” Kirk said, forcing lightness into his voice, “don’t think I’ve forgotten that you were rummaging around in my head, too.”

“I was doing my duty as your doctor,” McCoy muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m pretty sure riding along on a Vulcan mind-meld isn’t part of a doctor’s normal duties,” Kirk said drily.

“No,” McCoy agreed, “but definitely one for the medical journals. Or my memoirs.”

Kirk smiled, and it was his old, familiar, devil-may-care smile as he clapped a hand to McCoy’s shoulder. “I’m sure we can fill up your memoirs with more excitement than _that_ , Bones.”

McCoy snorted and rolled his eyes, but there was affection in his voice as he said, “I have no doubt we can, Jim. I have no doubt we can.”

 

* * * * *

(It ends - or perhaps it begins - with a woman.)

The man who answered the door to the tidy little house on Wrigley’s Pleasure Planet frowned warily at Kirk, a frown that only deepened as Kirk simply stood on his doorstep and stared.

“Yeah?” the man finally barked.

Kirk shook himself. “I’m sorry.” He smiled tentatively. “I think I knew your sister. On Tarsus IV?”

The man’s frown dissolved into surprise and his violet eyes widened. “You knew Clem?”

Kirk nodded. “I was there when she,” he swallowed, “died. And it was my fault.”

The frown returned, but the man stepped aside to let Kirk into the house. “I think you better tell me about it.”

~~~~~

Micah leaned back and shook his head.

“That’s quite the story,” he murmured, his eyes distant. “I always wondered what exactly happened. When I got the news about the massacre, it was months later, and Kodos was already dead, otherwise I would have gladly killed him myself.” He focused on Kirk. “Thank you. For telling me. For being her friend.”

Kirk shook his head. “I should have been a better friend,” he muttered. “I should have listened to her when she wanted to hide in the mountains.”

Micah shrugged and sighed. “It was a long time ago,” he murmured. A soft smile tugged at his lips. “She was quite the girl.”

“Yes. She was.”

The door slid open and the girl clattered into the house. She stopped short at the sight of Kirk.

“Adelaide,” Micah said, “come in.” He nodded at Kirk. “This gentleman knew your aunt. He has some stories he’d like to share with you.”

Kirk’s blue eyes met Adelaide’s violet ones, and his heart clenched with love and loss and regret.

Then he smiled.

“I think you’ll like her,” he said.

 

[ susanmarier's art - Please go and leave her some love. ](../../../706973)


	4. Author's Notes

This fic would never have been written without help from an awful lot of sources:

1\. [](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/profile)[**caitriona_3**](http://caitriona-3.livejournal.com/) of course, for offering up the prompt. It was the only one I read and thought, “I can do something with that. Maybe. I think.”  I hope you liked the result.

2\. [Memory Alpha](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Portal:Main), which is a geek-tastic (nerd-gasmic?) (both?) compilation of the larger Star Trek canon (all the TV shows, including The Animated Series and all the movies, books, and comics, including information from commentaries, and probably a few things I don’t remember). As I was grazing through the site, trying to confirm details (the name of Kirk's brother; was his mother remarried; who was that kid boy!Kirk waved to while driving the corvette), I discovered (among many, many other things) the following facts:

(a) Vulcans can remove memories (and Spock did so to Kirk in [Requiem for Methuselah](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Requiem_for_Methuselah_\(episode\))).  
(b) Vulcans can mind meld with more than one person, something called a “bridging of minds” (as seen in [Unimatrix Zero](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/Unimatrix_Zero_\(episode\)), a Star Trek: Voyager episode).  
(c) [McCoy’s daughter was on Cerberus in approximately 2260](http://en.memory-alpha.org/wiki/2260) and survived a famine.  
Names of planets and alien races (such as the Andorians and J'naii) were also taken from this site, as well as some of their general characteristics (e.g., Andorians have four sexes; J'naii are androgynous). How they're referenced and used in this story are inventions to fit the needs of the story.

3\. Sarah McLachlan’s song, [I Will Remember You.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uHooH4464dQ) The entire song spoke to me, but the following lyrics are what really helped to anchor the story in my own mind:  
      _I’m so tired but I can’t sleep_  
      _Standing on the edge of something much too deep_  
      _It’s funny how we feel so much but cannot say a word_  
      _Though we are screaming inside oh we can’t be heard._

4.  This quote from Star Trek Reboot, which inspired me to figure out “what it was” that was holding Kirk back.  
       _...'cause I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor. Your aptitude tests are off the charts. So what is it? You like being the only_ _genius-level repeat-offender in the midwest?_  
                - Pike - Star Trek (2009)

5\. I stumbled upon (again on Memory Alpha) this simple quote from Kirk (“I need my pain!”).  For this A/N, I searched for the full quote and found this long-forgotten scene from a (for me) long-forgotten movie _:_  
        _Damn it, Bones, you're a doctor. You know that pain and guilt can't be taken away with a wave of a magic wand. They're the things we carry with_ _us, the things that make us who we are. If we lose them, we lose ourselves. I don't want my pain taken away! I need my pain!_  
                - Captain Kirk _-_ Star Trek V:  The Final Frontier  
I had completely forgotten about that scene...except perhaps it lingered in my subconscious.  The similar scene in this fic was written in homage to all survivors of crime, violence and illness who have used their personal tragedies to make the world a better place.  Their strength of spirit is awe-inspiring and incredibly humbling.

 


End file.
